Andersonville | Page 7

of both to a condition of
limp indifference as to things past, present and future.
Whither we were going we knew not, nor cared. Such matters had long
since ceased to excite any interest. A cavalryman soon recognizes as
the least astonishing thing in his existence the signal to "Fall in!" and
start somewhere. He feels that he is the "Poor Joe" of the Army--under
perpetual orders to "move on."
Down we wound over the road that zig-tagged through the forts,
batteries and rifle-pits covering the eastern ascent to the Flap-past the
wonderful Murrell Spring--so-called because the robber chief had
killed, as he stooped to drink of its crystal waters, a rich drover, whom
he was pretending to pilot through the mountains--down to where the
"Virginia road" turned off sharply to the left and entered Powell's
Valley. The mist had become a chill, dreary rain, through, which we
plodded silently, until night closed in around us some ten miles from

the Gap. As we halted to go into camp, an indignant Virginian resented
the invasion of the sacred soil by firing at one of the guards moving out
to his place. The guard looked at the fellow contemptuously, as if he
hated to waste powder on a man who had no better sense than to stay
out in such a rain, when he could go in-doors, and the bushwhacker
escaped, without even a return shot.
Fires were built, coffee made, horses rubbed, and we laid down with
feet to the fire to get what sleep we could.
Before morning we were awakened by the bitter cold. It had cleared off
during the night and turned so cold that everything was frozen stiff.
This was better than the rain, at all events. A good fire and a hot cup of
coffee would make the cold quite endurable.
At daylight the bugle sounded "Right forward! fours right!" again, and
the 300 of us resumed our onward plod over the rocky, cedar-crowned
hills.
In the meantime, other things were taking place elsewhere. Our
esteemed friends of the Sixty-fourth Virginia, who were in camp at the
little town of Jonesville, about 40 miles from the Gap, had learned of
our starting up the Valley to drive them out, and they showed that
warm reciprocity characteristic of the Southern soldier, by mounting
and starting down the Valley to drive us out. Nothing could be more
harmonious, it will be perceived. Barring the trifling divergence of
yews as to who was to drive and who be driven, there was perfect
accord in our ideas.
Our numbers were about equal. If I were to say that they considerably
outnumbered us, I would be following the universal precedent. No
soldier-high or low-ever admitted engaging an equal or inferior force of
the enemy.
About 9 o'clock in the morning--Sunday--they rode through the streets
of Jonesville on their way to give us battle. It was here that most of the
members of the Regiment lived. Every man, woman and child in the
town was related in some way to nearly every one of the soldiers.

The women turned out to wave their fathers, husbands, brothers and
lovers on to victory. The old men gathered to give parting counsel and
encouragement to their sons and kindred. The Sixty-fourth rode away
to what hope told them would be a glorious victory.
At noon we are still straggling along without much attempt at soldierly
order, over the rough, frozen hill-sides. It is yet bitterly cold, and men
and horses draw themselves together, as if to expose as little surface as
possible to the unkind elements. Not a word had been spoken by any
one for hours.
The head of the column has just reached the top of the hill, and the rest
of us are strung along for a quarter of a mile or so back.
Suddenly a few shots ring out upon the frosty air from the carbines of
the advance. The general apathy is instantly, replaced by keen attention,
and the boys instinctively range themselves into fours--the cavalry unit
of action. The Major, who is riding about the middle of the first
Company--I--dashes to the front. A glance seems to satisfy him, for he
turns in his saddle and his voice rings out:
"Company I! FOURS LEFT INTO LINE!--MARCH!!"
The Company swings around on the hill-top like a great, jointed toy
snake. As the fours come into line on a trot, we see every man draw his
saber and revolver. The Company raises a mighty cheer and dashes
forward.
Company K presses forward to the ground Company I has just left, the
fours sweep around into line, the sabers and revolvers come out
spontaneously, the men cheer and the Company flings itself forward.
All this time we of Company L can see nothing